


Slip of the Tongue

by writerofberk



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Lettie is the true mvp, but we all already knew that already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerofberk/pseuds/writerofberk
Summary: "P.T., did you just call Lettie mom?"// All credit for the idea goes to the lovely mod of the hilarious adorable ask-pt-barnum blog on tumblr.





	Slip of the Tongue

“What did you just say?”

The second the words left her lips, a pang of guilt struck Lettie square in the chest – she didn’t need to ask. She knew what he’d just said, she knew good and damn well what he’d just said—hell, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, the entire circus troupe knew what he’d just said—Carlyle had even left the corner where he’d been huddled practically the entire morning, nursing a hangover and muttering darkly about how he was going to kill Barnum, and then himself—pretty priceless coming from the guy who, and the rest of the circus agreed with her on this, had probably been a kitten in his past life.

The equally-hungover, half-awake Barnum stared blankly back at her over the chipped rim of the dark green coffee cup cradled in his hands. “Pardon?” He blinked, and pushed off the wall he’d just been leaning against.

“Did you just…?” Carlyle spoke up before she could, still pale-faced and rubbing at his temples, but grinning a little nonetheless. “P.T., did you just call—did you just call Lettie mom?”

Barnum frowned at him. “What? Don’t be ridiculous, Phillip, of course I didn’t…” Abruptly, he broke off. All the color drained from his face. He glanced at Lettie, undisguised horror in his eyes, knuckles turning white against the dark olive of his cup; for a second, his mouth moved soundlessly, forming words that never left his tongue.

And Lettie couldn’t help it – she started to laugh. It just sort of burst out of her, and she couldn’t stop it, could barely even control it, because holy mother of God, P.T. Barnum had just called her mom, and he looked about two seconds away from jumping a train to Europe, or at least trying to drown himself in his coffee, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, with a vivid red flush beginning to creep up his neck.

Charles had fallen into hysterics, doubled over in his chair, his whole body shaking with wild guffaws; Anne clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter, and even Phillip smothered a snicker.

Barnum was redder than his jacket by now, and he’d started sputtering, jumbled half-words leaving his mouth in a fragmented, incoherent stream. Lettie almost felt sorry for him.

Finally, he shouted, voice rising above all the hilarity, _“It was a slip of the tongue!”_ and swept away in the direction of his office, the back of his neck burning red.

Lettie finally managed to swallow back the last of her laughter, but the smile on her face was another story. _A slip of the tongue,_ he’d said, and she knew it was true, but there was something about the way the word echoed in her ears that brought a sudden, almost overwhelming rush of warmth to life in her chest. _A slip of the tongue,_ he’d said, but she couldn’t help thinking that it was a slip she could live with.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a little too much fun with this one.


End file.
